Make This Go On Forever
by Charlotte88
Summary: One-shot. Set during and post series fifteen. "Perhaps being alone and impervious to heartache isn't all it's made out to be. Maybe there's something to be said for having someone."


**Make This Go On Forever**

When she gets off the phone with the Cape Town police, the first person she calls is him. Even though it's late. Even though he's probably asleep. Because she doesn't really know how to feel, or what to say, and Harry will. He'll know exactly what to say to her. And anyway, who else has she got now, really?

He arrives on her doorstep in an unexpectedly short amount of time, and the idea that he dropped everything for her makes her inexplicably feel a little worse. But he's there, and his warm strong arms are around her, and though no tears are shed and she tells him that she's okay, he knows not to question her and she'll be eternally grateful for that.

They stay wrapped up together all evening, eating stodgy takeaway food and watching a corny movie.

_That's when he promises her that he's there for her._

A week later and she's standing outside of a South African morgue, steeling herself to go in. The sun is unbearably hot, beating down against the back of her neck, the ground at her feet, the walls in front of her. It's stifling, and only serves to accentuate the stench of disinfectant and death that is so unfamiliar here.

But then fingers slip into her hand and he steps forward to be at her side. He assures her that she can do this. Swears that he'll be right outside.

_That's when she knows that he meant what he said._

The morning of her father's memorial service comes around too quickly. She's beginning to regret organising it. It's not like anyone is going to show up, anyway. He wasn't exactly very good at keeping people around.

And so she's still in bed, cutting it really quite fine if she wants to make it to the church in time. But her dad never showed up to her ballet performances, or cello recitals, or parents evening. Why should she show up for him?

There's a knock on her door. And she knows who it will be, because he was supposed to be driving her to the church. And Harry is nothing if not punctual.

He's calling her name now, but she ignores him. Why can't people just leave her alone?

But, of course, he takes her spare key and lets himself in. Damn. And then he's stood outside her bedroom, softly asking if she's okay. And when she still doesn't reply he pokes his head around the door. She was expecting pity, or sympathy, or concern, but what she sees in his eyes shocks her - understanding.

He sits on the edge of her bed as she tells him that she's not going, that she doesn't want to, that she doesn't owe her father anything and that it's a waste of her time. He listens patiently, waiting for her to finish, and when she does he gets to his feet and simply tells her that he expects to see her up and dressed by the time he's made coffee.

And, for some reason, she finds herself doing as he instructs. And yes, the service is painful and she's scared of falling apart and also a little scared of just how numb she actually feels, but she goes through with it. And she reads that godforsaken poem that she's slowly come to resent now and she knows that she _isn't_ weak, that she _can_ do it.

And, do you know what? He sits there the whole time, not once taking her eyes off her. And it makes her feel like maybe, just maybe, she can do anything.

_That's when she comes to realise that she can't function without him._

When he finds her in the car park, crying in her car, crying so hard that her chest hurts because she can't breathe, and her throat burns and her eyes sting and feel heavy and her head aches, she worries that he's going to think she's pathetic. Hell, _she_ thinks she's pathetic.

But he slips quietly into the passenger seat and takes her hand. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. Slowly, her breathing returns to normal. Her sobs decrease in both frequency and intensity, until eventually the only sound is the gentle pattering of rain on the roof and the occasional shuddering breath.

She turns to look at him, to apologise, but he stops her from talking and tells her that he's taking her home. So they swap places and he drives, and she feels so tired all of a sudden, so exhausted, that by the time they get into her apartment she can barely stand. But she manages to implore him not to leave her.

He tucks her into bed, gently smoothing her tousled hair, carefully brushing away tear stains from her cheeks. He presses a kiss to her temple and promises that he'll be in her spare room should she need him.

_That's when him being there causes a strange kind of ache in her chest._

A long time later, when they're doing a postmortem on a man whose situation mirrors her father's so closely that she begins to wonder if a higher power is playing a cruel trick on her, he keeps her together. He jokes and laughs and smiles and winds up Leo and buys her lunch and she knows, then, that he's doing everything he can to make sure she's doing okay.

And it works, because she finds herself laughing too and her days are a little brighter and it's all because of him. And when the case is closed and the body is gone and he kisses her lightly in the locker room before bidding her goodnight, she knows that the smirk on his face and the tingling across her body could be a problem. But she doesn't care.

_That's when she realises that her life is better because of him._

Later still, when he's there after yet another nasty breakup, and she's feeling a little more worn and a little less strong, she comes to realise that maybe there's something to be said for his constancy. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way, really. Perhaps being alone and impervious to heartache isn't all it's made out to be. Maybe there's something to be said for having someone.

And this is what she says to him tonight, in his apartment on the sofa. And for while he does nothing but stare at her and she worries that she's misread everything between them for the last eight, nearly nine, years. But then his features crack into a smile and he laughs, shaking his head.

She asks him what's funny, because the last thing she feels like doing is laughing right now, but when he looks up at her again she sees the look in his eyes and knows that something isn't right.

And that's when he tells her that he's leaving.

He's leaving.

And he goes on to explain that he was laughing because of the ridiculousness of the situation. He's right, she knows he is. It's taken them so many years to reach this cataclysmic moment, but it's too late. They left it too late. And it _is_ so ridiculous that it's comical, and yet at the same time it's so utterly heartbreaking.

So she kisses him. Because, why the hell not? If it's their last chance, she's not going to throw it away. And apparently he feels the same. Because they slowly fall into bed together, and it's wonderful and perfect and really quite beautiful.

And afterwards, when their heated passion has diminished only to be replaced by small gentle kisses, she finds herself struggling to hold back inevitable tears. But he wipes them away with his thumb and smiles again, and asks her how she can expect him to leave now.

_And that? That is when she realises that no matter what she does or who she pretends to be or where he goes, she will never be able to shake that devastating, exquisite pain of being totally, completely and unequivocally in love with him._

* * *

**Completely stand-alone and unrelated from 'Beauty of the End' and 'All We Want...'. There also wasn't going to be a Harry-leaving element in it until I was struggling to find the right way to end it. But I hope it fits, and that you like it.**

**Your wonderful reviews really do make my day, thank you so much. :)**

**Charlotte xxx**


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